


Message from Marmora

by mckinlily



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friendsheith, Gen, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith is a Mess, Shiro is too but he's trying his best, written platonic but i won't stop what you ship, yet another Blade of Marmora missing scenes fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckinlily/pseuds/mckinlily
Summary: “You’re not the only one rattled from today, Keith.”“Because I’m Galra?”“No! Because I had to watch you fight against multiple foes you couldn’t beat and then get tortured by your own mind!”Keith isn’t dealing with his new-found heritage very well. Shiro, it turns out, has a lot of feelings about this.





	Message from Marmora

Keith pulled out his old knife, stared at the Blade of Marmora symbol for two seconds, and then flung it violently against his headboard. Had he thought looking for his family would actually _help_ him? He wanted to laugh except his ribs hurt too much. Like the people who had abandoned him would bring anything _good_ into his life.

It still hurt. He should be used to this by now, but it _hurt_. Allura’s outright rejection cut through him, made worse because he had hoped—It was _Voltron._ Here he was _important_ and _useful._ If there was anywhere where he—

Keith fumbled with the straps of his chest plate, choking for air in sharp, painful gasps.

The others had been shocked, not angry, but he knew how this went. Keith was wrong. He was always wrong, no matter how he tried, and now they _knew_. They knew he didn’t belong anywhere. They would kick him out. They wouldn’t even have to come up with an excuse. And it would be _fine._ Keith knew how to deal with being alone. Except—

_Even Shiro doesn’t want you. He sent you away._ _He doesn’t want to even look at you_ —

Keith yanked his chest plate off. Pain made spots dance in his eyes. Shiro had told him to _leave._ Sure, it had been to go get cleaned up, but Shiro was a good actor. Keith knew that. If Shiro were disgusted with him—

Oh gall, that was it, wasn’t it? Shiro was disgusted with him. Shiro hated him. After all Shiro had been through, to be betrayed by—

“Keith?”

Keith seized up and immediately grimaced in pain. He almost didn’t register someone had actually entered his room until he heard heavy footsteps coming closer.

“Keith, buddy? Are you all right?”

And there was Shiro, head bent toward him, looking and sounding just like he always had—patient, calm, concerned. And Keith didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

“Keith…”

Keith flinched. “Don’t you hate me?”

Shiro looked stunned. “Of course not. Why—?”

“I’m _Galra_ ,” spat Keith, the first time he said the words. Kolivan had kindly, _callously_ , spilled the news to the others before Keith could. The words tasted like razors on his tongue. “I’m—I— Galra, Shiro. _Galra_. They’re—you know what they are! And _I’m—_ ”

“Keith, calm down,” said Shiro, hands up in a placating gesture. “I know it’s a shock, and you need time to process it. But it doesn’t change—”

“It changed everything for Allura!” Keith shrieked. “And the Galra _tortured_ you!” His voice grew higher as he became more frantic. “You can’t even remember it, it’s so bad, and now I’m—I—”

“ _Keith_.” Shiro’s hands fell heavy on his shoulders. He bent forward, the tips of his bangs mixing with Keith’s. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“They hurt you! They took you _arm_!”

“And that wasn’t you.” Shiro pressed his forehead against Keith’s. “You hear me? _That wasn’t you_. I know that. I know who you are. Whoever you come from can’t change that.”

Keith felt his lips trembling. A bone deep shudder was trying to burst its way out of his shoulders. He tried to make himself meet Shiro’s eyes. “You don’t hate me?”

“Oh, _Keith_.”

Without warning, Shiro pulled Keith into his arms. The same reserved, private Shiro who had only become more so since his imprisonment, hugged Keith hard, tight, one arm wrapped around Keith’s back, his other hand cupping the back of Keith’s head and pulling Keith’s face into his neck.

“ _Never_ ,” Shiro vowed, quiet and intense in Keith’s ear. “Never ever.”

Keith didn’t mean to. But he was tense and hurt and overwhelmed, and he collapsed into Shiro’s arms a terrible, full-body shudder. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the confusion, the hurt and horror and fear that had been building inside him for so long, it all gushed out in great, jagged pieces, leaving Keith weak and broken in their wake. And Shiro held him up, calm and steady, while Keith fell to pieces all over him.

“Why is there always something wrong with me? Why is it always _me_?”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” said Shiro. He ducked his head so he was speaking fiercely in Keith’s ear. “ _Nothing_.”

If possible, Shiro hugged him even tighter, squeezing each and every bruise and cut Keith had got during the Trials of Marmora, and it was possibly the best feeling Keith had ever had.

“I’m sorry I scared you talking about if something happens to me. I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m not leaving you, Keith. Nothing you can do can make me want to.”

Somewhere deep down, Keith believed that. Wanted to believe that. But it wasn’t the same as hearing it now, with his face pressed into the crook of Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro’s arms painfully tight around him, and when he could feel the vibrations of Shiro’s voice in his chest as he spoke.

Keith didn’t have words to respond, but Shiro didn’t expect him to. He was content to hold Keith until Keith’s breathing steadied out and he stopped gripping Shiro’s shirt like he was trying to tear it apart.

Shiro loosened his hold. His hands came to Keith’s shoulders again. “Keith, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Keith tensed up, and Shiro rubbed his thumbs over Keith’s shoulders, soothing.

“I was watching your Trial,” he said. “I saw you fight those waves of Blade. And I saw the hologram your suit created for you.”

Keith blinked, not quite sure how he felt about that. “Yeah?”

“Keith, you understand that that wasn’t me, right?” Shiro stared into Keith’s eyes like he was trying to impart the mysteries of the universe. “I don’t think like that. I would _never_ ask you to give up something so import to you for me. _Never._ I couldn’t call myself your friend if I did.”

Keith took a shuddering breath. “I know.”

Shiro didn’t say anything, just looked at Keith with a carefully expectant expression.

“I-I believe you,” Keith amended. “I know that, but I—” Keith trailed off, not knowing how to express the rest, but Shiro let him go, straightening with a soft smile.

“I understand,” he said. “Just so long as you do, too.”

Keith’s eyes flicked up to Shiro’s. “Yeah.”

And maybe Keith didn’t really understand, but it was Shiro and what Keith understood was that Shiro could be relied on. Shiro kept his promises. Even when Shiro left, he _came back._

No one else had ever come back for Keith before.

Shiro’s eyes roved over Keith, taking in every bruise and scrape, and Keith could read how irritation was building under his calm expression. “You really got beat up in there,” he said, his tone disproving. It took Keith a moment to realize that disapproval wasn’t aimed at him at all. “As important as they are as allies, I can’t think of the Blade as particularly _helpful._ ”

Keith snorted. “You mean you think maybe they should have offered more than ‘Hey, you’re Galra. Deal with it.’”

Keith meant to make it a joke, if a bitter one, but his voice cracked at the end, and Shiro noticed. Keith flinched. He didn’t want to go through it again. Didn’t think he had the strength to pull himself back together this time if he did.

“Well, you did end up with a cool sword,” said Shiro.

Keith looked up, not sure where Shiro was going with this.

Shiro shrugged, with a slight smirk. “Hey, anything’s worth it as long as you get a cool weapon out of it, right?”

And he waved his Galra arm.

And, inordinately, something in Keith just _snapped_.

“Will you _stop_ that?”

No. He shouldn’t have said that. Shiro actually looked hurt. “Stop what?”

Keith flapped his hands frantically, desperate not to hurt Shiro but burning with a new wave of emotion he couldn’t make heads or tails of. “Just—this! Making jokes like that! Pretending what happened to you doesn’t matter!”

Shiro sighed. “The arm’s not such a big deal. It’s actually helpful.” He hitched on a plastic smile. “Besides, a guy’s got to have some coping mechanism.”

“That’s not a coping mechanism!” Keith snarled.

Shiro folded his arms across his chest. “Keith, no offense, but are _you_ really the expert of healthy coping?”

“No! Yes? I mean, _no_ , but—” And suddenly, everything that had been building since Shiro’s return came boiling over because Shiro was everything, _everything_ to Keith, and if Keith had to witness _one more_ fake smile—

“You don’t _have_ a coping mechanism, Shiro! You just bottle everything up, and hope no one calls you out on it! Well, too bad. _I’m_ calling you on it. You have to talk to people about your problems, isn’t that what you’re always telling me? So _talk_ or do _something_ besides pretending you’re okay all the time because you’re not!”

Shiro looked shocked. Something in his face shunted, and that open expression from earlier was gone.

Keith looked down. “Just…talk to someone,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

“Keith…” And this was where Shiro pulled on that leader persona he’d been clinging to so desperately lately and shut Keith out again. Because Keith wasn’t good enough. Keith didn’t have the right words or knowledge or whatever to reach people. To make them stay.

But Shiro surprised him.

Shiro exhaled for a long, tenuous minute, and then he spoke, his voice soft and _bare_.

“You’re not the only one rattled from today, Keith.”           

Keith scrambled to find a response. Because Shiro was talking. Shiro was _talking._ And Keith had _no idea_ what to do.

“Because I’m Galra?” he said, try his best to say the right thing.

And apparently getting it wrong because Shiro shook his head sharply. “ _No._ Because I had to watch you fight against multiple foes you couldn’t beat and then get tortured by your own mind!”

Shiro’s eyes were flashing, his jaw was tense, and Keith realized he was _mad._ He was furious and angry and—

And he had been scared, too.

Shiro gentled his expression. “Can I help you clean up?”

What Shiro wasn’t saying rang loud and clear in Keith’s ears, and he nodded. Together, they got Keith out of his flight suit to his waist. Shiro pulled the Altean first aid kit out from under Keith’s bed and got to work on the cut on Keith’s shoulder while Keith rested his forehead against the wall.

“Shiro…” He wished he had more to offer. Something to say that would make Shiro know it was okay to be afraid and feel less scared at the same time like Shiro would do if their positions were reversed. Or just anything that could make Shiro feel like Keith did when Shiro was around. “You know I love you, right?”

Shiro paused what he was doing, and for a moment Keith was afraid he’d said the wrong thing. Then he felt Shiro’s hands, gently working on his shoulder again. “Yeah, buddy. I love you, too. Sometimes it’s just… it’s hard to talk.”

Keith nodded. He got that. He wished he knew how to make it not hard, but that was something Keith just couldn’t do.

“You _do_ help,” said Shiro, like he could tell where Keith’s head was going. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Yeah?” said Keith, voice shakier than he meant it to be.

“Definitely.” In Shiro’s voice, so firm and confident, it was hard to doubt. Something in Keith that had been swinging and volatile since he started to suspect he was Galra finally found its place and settled.

Shiro cleared his throat. “You know,” he said, voice forced-light as he applied the tape-like material that Alteans used for stitches, “I think we’ve been here before. You getting into something stupid, and me cleaning you up.”

Keith sort of just blinked. “Oh. Sorry.”

Shiro chuckled. “Honestly, Keith, I don’t think this is the worst you’ve put me through.”

Keith opened his mouth to argue, but then he remembered exactly what Shiro had put up with during their time at the Garrison… And, yeah, alien super ninjas notwithstanding, Shiro was probably right. Keith’s lips twitched up. “Hey, at least I kept both my arms.”

Shiro smacked him on his good shoulder. “I thought you didn’t like my dark humor!”

Keith laughed—lightly, though. He still had broken ribs. Shiro reached for the bruise cream and started rubbing all over Keith’s back. (“Isn’t that supposed to be used on localized injuries?” “Buddy, your back _is_ the localized injury.”) It felt a bit weird, Shiro treating this just like another one of Keith’s mess-ups at the Garrison when this was _so much_ bigger, he was part _alien_ , and yet—

That was what Shiro did, wasn’t it? He never had cared about the multitude of labels slapped onto Keith. Bad attitude, difficult personality, problem child, discipline issue—Shiro looked through all of it and just saw…Keith. And Keith didn’t know how he did it because even _Keith_ couldn’t manage it, but he did.

Shiro was nearly finished with Keith’s back when a faint commotion came from the other side of Keith’s door. They both looked up.

“Huh,” said Shiro. He looked almost amused. “I guess I should just be surprised it took them this long.”

“What?” said Keith. But he didn’t get an answer because at that moment his door burst open and the remaining three paladins tumbled in.

“Holy crow!” cried Lance, speaking first and, of course, loudest as they took in Keith’s battered state. “Are you sure those Marmorites are the good guys? Because Keith you look like a _mess_! Shiro, hand me the bruise cream.”

With no further comment, Lance went to work cleaning up the front side of Keith Shiro hadn’t gotten to yet. Something soft smashed into Keith’s side. Keith froze as Pidge wrapped her arms around him, her glasses digging into his bare chest.

“Why are you always getting beat up, stupid?” she grumbled.

And Hunk sat on Keith’s bed, looking up at Keith with open, sincere eyes. “I’d hug you, too, but it kinda looks like it’d hurt,” he admitted sheepishly.

Pidge shifted so that her glasses were no longer digging to Keith’s ribs, but she didn’t let go. She just squeezed tighter. Lance grabbed Keith’s chin in his hand and went right on blathering.

“Wow, those guys really did a number on you, Mullet. Luckily, you have me. Can’t have a face like this without knowing a few tricks.”

“Wonderful,” said Keith sarcastically because Lance was being _normal_ and Keith didn’t expect that and Keith didn’t know how to handle things he didn’t expect. In the mirror, he caught Shiro’s eyes, and Shiro gave him an encouraging smile.

“So what happened exactly?” prompted Hunk. “Kolivan didn’t really explain, and you look like you got messed up, man.”

Keith tensed but there were Shiro’s hands, one warm and soft, the other hard and smooth on his shoulders. And Pidge was still there, wrapped around him, and Lance, carefully dabbing bruise cream under his eye. Hunk was looking at him with his open, warm expression, ready for an answer but not pushing for it.

“You were right, you know,” whispered Shiro quietly in his ear. “When you told the Blade where you belong.” And Keith exhaled slowly.

“It was my knife,” he began. “It has the Blade of Marmora symbol on it. It’s the only thing I have from my family, so I wanted to know—”

_Knowledge or death._

Today, Keith learned he wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


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